章 448: 0447 Regrets
Bryan's footsteps echoed softly against the polished floors as he descended to the second basement level in the Ministry of Magic's elevator. The golden grilles slid open with a gentle clang, revealing the domain of Amelia Bones's Department of Magical Law Enforcement. This floor housed the most powerful armed organization in the Ministry- the Auror Office.
But ,the entire Ministry was eerily empty, and this floor was no exception. As Bryan stepped out of the elevator, his keen eyes scanning the dimly lit corridor, Dumbledore's familiar voice rang out from the right, cutting through the oppressive silence.
"This way, Bryan,"
The architecture of the Ministry's second basement level seemed deliberately designed to emphasize the significance of magical law. Stark and cold, the corridors were a somber palette of blacks and grays, apart from the portraits of past heads of the department hanging on the corridor walls, there were no decorations.
Bryan turned a few corners in the maze like corridors and found Dumbledore standing at the entrance to a staircase leading further down. The flaming torches on either side of the entrance casted a golden glow on Dumbledore's silver-white beard.
"Cornelius was in quite a hurry to give some last-minute instructions to the head of the Auror Office," Dumbledore explained with a smile, "I was concerned you might lose your way in this maze, so I thought it prudent to wait for you here."
Bryan nodded slightly, "Thank you, Headmaster Dumbledore. I appreciate your thoughtfulness. Amelia's office is on the other side, and I've never ventured this deep into the Ministry before. It's quite the labyrinth down here."
The staircase before them plunged underground, bearing a striking resemblance to the one leading to the Wizengamot courtrooms. It was shrouded in darkness, the air growing noticeably colder with each step downward. The atmosphere was heavy as this was where Aurors likely conducted temporary detentions and intense interrogations of the dangerous magical criminals. As, both Dumbledore and Bryan were powerful wizards, they could easily find their footing on each step even in the darkness.
As they descended, Dumbledore's cheerful voice cut through the gloomy surroundings. "I couldn't help but notice, Bryan," he began, a hint of amusement in his tone, "that you might have missed an opportunity to demand a rather hefty fee from Cornelius earlier. Not that I'm suggesting you should have, of course."
Bryan chuckled softly, "Rest assured, I won't let Fudge off that easily," he replied, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Though, of course, I wasn't planning to ask for an exorbitant amount. I do have some restraint." He paused for a moment, then added with a smirk, "By the way, Mr. Chairman of the International Confederation of Wizards, I'm curious - does the ICW have any official stance on my brave and fearless performance tonight?"
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he responded, "Objectively speaking, Bryan, the International Confederation of Wizards is a rather... impoverished organization. Most of the funds required to keep it operational come from various Ministries of Magic. If you're hoping I'll present you with a large sum of galleons, I'm afraid that's quite out of the question." He stroked his beard thoughtfully before continuing, "However, if it's prestige you're after, well, that's an entirely different matter. I'd wager that by tomorrow morning, my office will be flooded with at least twenty owls delivering letters of recommendation, all clamoring to invite you to become a Vice-Chairman."
"Vice-Chairman?" Bryan scoffed playfully. "If it were for the position of Chairman, I might consider it."
Bryan's jest elicited another chuckle from Dumbledore.
After this playful conversation, they finally reached the bottom of the stairs. The area that greeted them was a stark contrast to the polished upper levels of the Ministry. Bryan's gaze lingered on these chambers, his imagination running wild. He could almost hear faint, ghostly wails emanating from behind each heavy door. The air seeping through the cracks seemed saturated with the metallic scent of blood.
The two stopped before a particularly ominous door. Unlike the others, this one had golden firelight spilling through its cracks. Dumbledore turned to face Bryan, his expression suddenly serious, the twinkle in his eyes replaced by a penetrating gaze.
"So, Bryan," Dumbledore began, his voice low and leisurely, "did you inquire about Malfoy's true purpose in orchestrating this attack?"
Bryan wasn't surprised by Dumbledore's abrupt question. Slowly, he shook his head, his expression thoughtful. "I didn't ask him anything directly," Bryan admitted. "I just gave him some warnings. As for his purpose..." He paused, considering his words carefully. "Well, I guess the unusual activity of the Dark Mark over the past few months has made him increasingly uneasy. Especially considering he practically handed Voldemort's Horcrux to us on a silver platter. My guess is he's terrified of facing Voldemort's wrath when he inevitably returns. This attack... it's likely a desperate attempt to prove he's still capable of evil."
Dumbledore nodded slowly, processing Bryan's words. He could follow the logic of Bryan's deductions regarding Lucius Malfoy's motives. However, a slight furrow appeared between his silver-white eyebrows, and a flicker of confusion passed through his piercing blue eyes. It wasn't Malfoy's reasons for this mischief that perplexed him, but rather Bryan's surprisingly lenient attitude towards the Death Eater.
Bryan was not one to tolerate any form of deception or manipulation. If he were truly enraged about this incident, the Malfoy family would undoubtedly have faced severe consequences. Yet, Bryan had merely issued a warning to Lucius - an action that seemed oddly out of character. Unless, Dumbledore pondered, Bryan wasn't genuinely concerned about this matter and had his own plans for Lucius Malfoy.
Respect had always been the cornerstone of their relationship, the prerequisite for their friendly coexistence. Whatever Bryan's thoughts about Lucius Malfoy might be, Dumbledore decided it was best not to interfere or pry further.
After giving Bryan, whose expression remained expressionless, a long, searching look, Dumbledore turned away. He raised his hand and knocked firmly on the imposing door before them.
*Scene-break*
"Well, it seems our little adventure for tonight ends here. There are plenty of rooms upstairs, you can choose whichever you like. If you want something to eat, just call for Kreacher—"
Bryan had already left, and Dumbledore's Patronus had also vanished on the spot.
After chatting for a few more minutes, Sirius, who had been through a fierce battle and whose robes were stained red with blood, finally couldn't hold on any longer. He needed to go back to his room to tend to his wounds. After giving instructions, Sirius waved goodbye to everyone and dragged his weary body upstairs.
Bill and Charlie Weasley, equally battered and exhausted from the night's events, weren't far behind. They gave weak smiles and brief waves to Harry before hurriedly making their way upstairs, no doubt eager to collapse into their beds. Fred and George, uncharacteristically quiet, followed closely on their older brothers' heels.
As the older Weasleys disappeared up the stairs, Ron's attention turned to his younger sister, Ginny, who remained rooted to her spot in the room. His brow furrowed in a mixture of concern and irritation. "Why aren't you going up yet?" Ron said, his tone gruffer than he perhaps intended.
Ginny's eyes flashed dangerously as she turned to face her brother. "What's it to you where I am, Weasley!" she spat back, her voice dripping with defiance. However, as her gaze flickered towards Harry and she noticed his hesitant expression, a shadow of gloom passed over her face, dulling the fire in her eyes.
Hermione had noticed the exchange and Ginny's sudden change in demeanor. "Ginny has the right to stay wherever she wants, Ron," she said, her voice tinged with irritation at Ron's overbearing behavior.
Despite Hermione's defense, Ginny didn't linger. With a contemptuous snort directed at Ron, she lifted her chin defiantly and strode towards the stairs.
"I'm her brother!" Ron's voice, filled with indignation at Ginny's attitude, could be heard throughout the first floor of the mansion.
Hermione rolled her eyes dramatically at Ron's outburst. "Oh, give it a rest, Weasley, and shut your mouth," she said, exasperation clear in her tone. Without waiting for a response, she made her way back into the garden, leaving Ron sputtering in her wake.
Sirius's tent was indeed luxurious. Like the ceiling of the Great Hall at Hogwarts, it could reflect the scene outside. Harry, Ron, and Hermione returned to their seats at the table in the garden, basking in the starlight and enjoying the tranquility after the fierce battle.
Both Harry and Hermione had participated in tonight's fight, with Harry having faced the most dangerous situation. The red swelling on his arm was a souvenir from that dark witch Melanov's vicious whip. If it hadn't been for the timely intervention of another powerful dark witch, Harry knew he might well be lying in a bed at St. Mungo's Hospital right now, rather than sitting here under the stars.
Hermione, too, bore the marks of battle. Her clothes, bought during a pleasant summer shopping trip with her parents at a Muggle mall, were now little more than tattered rags. She gazed dejectedly at the multiple tears in her once-favorite jacket, her mood visibly dampened by its destruction. With a resigned sigh, she shrugged off the dusty, ruined jacket and draped it over the armrest of her chair.
As Hermione looked up, her eyes fell on Harry and Ron. Both boys were staring at the table, lost in their own thoughts.
Harry's concerns were obvious— The appearance of the powerful dark witch and the shadowy figure that was almost certainly Voldemort were enough to give him a headache.
Ron's pensive expression, however, piqued Hermione's curiosity. It was unusual to see him so deep in thought, especially after such an eventful night.
"What are you thinking about, Mr. Weasley?" Hermione asked, breaking the silence.
Ron's head snapped up at her words. "Oh, can't you call me something else, Miss Granger?" he grumbled, rolling his eyes. But the moment of light-heartedness was short-lived, and his expression quickly became somber once more. "I was thinking," he began, then hesitated, as if unsure whether to continue. Finally, he pressed on, "I was wondering whether my decision to quit Professor Watson's class was too hasty."
Hermione's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and beside her, Harry raised his head to look at Ron with a mixture of shock and curiosity. Noticing their expressions, Ron's ears turned pink, and he grumbled, "Alright, I know you both probably think I'm being stupid!"
Hermione pursed her lips, considering her words carefully, and asked in a neutral tone. "What made you change your mind, Ron?"
'Is there even any need to ask this?' Harry complained in his heart.
At Hogwarts, no one doubted that Professor Watson was a wizard with extraordinary magical prowess. Even in the European magical community, the Head of Hogwarts Student Safety Office, who had single-handedly wiped out Greyback's notorious werewolf gang, was highly respected. But no one had anticipated that Professor Watson could be this powerful. No, to be precise, no one could have imagined that a wizard's power could actually burn mountains to ashes and conjure forests that reached the sky.
Harry could bet his Firebolt that if Professor Watson were to open enrollment to the entire Wizarding world now, even if he really did teach Muggle sports at Hogwarts, there would be more aspiring students than the Quidditch pitch could possibly hold. It was perfectly understandable for Ron to feel a twinge of regret at having dropped the class.
However, it was only tonight that Harry truly realized the practical value of Professor Watson's unorthodox training methods. If it weren't for the enhanced reflexes and physical conditioning, he had developed in those grueling physical education classes, that dark witch called Melanov might well have ended his life tonight.
Harry thought since Professor Watson had made it explicitly clear that he would not accept any young wizards who had abandoned the physical education class back into the course. A wizard of Professor Watson's caliber would never go back on his word, so even if Ron was experiencing regret now, there was little he could do to change the situation.
Hermione's raised eyebrows slowly lowered as she processed Ron's words. Not wanting to upset him further or rub salt in the wound, she turned her gaze to Harry, trying to change the subject.
"What about you?" she asked softly. "What are you thinking about, Harry?"
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Author's Note:
Hi everyone,
I wanted to let you know that I have to go somewhere today and will be away until the day after tomorrow. I will post today's chapter but tomorrow i may not be able to post. The updates will be regular from the day i return.
Thank you for your understanding and support!
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For More Chapters; patreon.com/FicFrenzy
章 449: 0448 Concerns
Facing Hermione's inquisitive gaze, Harry opened his mouth, but the words seemed to catch in his throat.
What was he thinking about? The events of the night had left him with a whirlwind of thoughts and concerns swirling in his mind.
The Ministry and Professor Dumbledore had summoned Professor Watson at this critical juncture, no doubt to discuss how to properly handle the shocking attack at the Quidditch World Cup stadium. What would be the final outcome of this volatile situation? Harry couldn't help but wonder.
Voldemort's powerful minions had appeared at the Quidditch World Cup stadium tonight, with the purpose of kidnapping him. How had Voldemort managed to recruit a witch capable of engaging in such a grandiose duel with Professor Watson?? And what exactly was the history between Professor Watson and that dark witch?
The group of dark wizards who had initiated the commotion, Remus had said they were Death Eaters. But based on the information revealed by the words of the witch caught by Professor Watson among the three who had barged into the top box, their clear objective had not been Harry. Their target had been Sirius, with Melanov even mentioning that Sirius' head was worth ten thousand Galleons.
"I was thinking—" Harry began, his voice hesitant at first. He paused, then ultimately set aside the matters related to Professor Watson, focusing instead on the more immediate concerns.
"The three who broke into our box, their target should have been Sirius, not me," Harry said, his emerald eyes bright with realization.
"Of course, Harry!" Ron immediately affirmed, nodding vigorously. "The way they acted after getting in made it obvious - they were clearly out to kill Sirius!"
Reassured by Ron's confirmation, Harry became instantly energized, shifting in his seat to sit up straighter.
"I told you all that when Lucius Malfoy came into the box tonight, he threatened Sirius. And they left the stadium before the commotion even started - isn't that strange? That was the World Cup final, who wouldn't want to see the outcome? Sirius probably thinks the same way, I bet he won't let Lucius Malfoy off the hook!"
"That means!"
Ron's expression shifted to one of dreamy anticipation, his eyes alight with a mischievous glint.
"Maybe by the time school starts, we might see Malfoy lugging his bags and getting kicked out of Hogwarts, because his father plotted that terrible terrorist attack!"
"Don't be ridiculous, Ron!" Hermione interjected, her arms crossed over her chest as she spoke bluntly. "Even if Lucius Malfoy was involved in this, it doesn't have anything to do with Draco. The Ministry and Hogwarts won't expel him just for that--"
"Oh, Hermione, you're ruining my mood--" Ron said sulkily, puckering his lips in a childish pout, but Hermione simply ignored his reaction. She then turned her attention to Harry, her gaze shifting slightly as she spoke with less certainty.
"Harry, the wizard who appeared at the end and rescued that woman named Cliodna - how confident are you that he was...the You-Know-Who?"
'How confident?'
Harry's brow furrowed in confusion as he looked at Hermione, not fully understanding why she would ask such a question. Wasn't it obvious?
He had recalled certain details from his previous dream, where Voldemort and Cliodna had been plotting in an old house, and the core of their plot had been to capture him. Cliodna had explicitly stated that she wanted to take him, clearly to bring him to Voldemort to torture and kill him. And the searing pain in his scar tonight had definitively confirmed that the grotesque-looking wizard who had appeared at the end was indeed Voldemort.
Hermione seemed to get the answer she wanted from the confusion etched on Harry's face, but this did not make her relax her expression. Instead, her brow furrowed deeply, a clear sign of her growing unease.
"I don't quite understand—" Hermione murmured, her gaze shifting skyward, as if seeking answers in the vast expanse of the starry heavens above.
"It sounds reasonable, and Sirius seems to think so too, but just now, Professor Watson's demeanor..." She trailed off, her words laced with uncertainty.
Harry and Ron exchanged a perplexed glance, neither fully grasping the implications behind Hermione's cryptic statement.
"What about Professor Watson? Is there something off about him?" Harry asked, his voice tinged with a mixture of concern and urgency, given the undeniable involvement of Voldemort in the night's events.
"Nothing--" Hermione sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. "I think Professor Watson probably won't explain your and Sirius' suspicions to the Ministry, Harry. Most likely, he'll want you to keep this discovery to yourselves."
"Why!" Harry's brow furrowed, his mind struggling to comprehend Hermione's reasoning. "Are you saying Professor Watson is afraid of Voldemort?"
If it were anyone else, knowing they were facing the most evil and cruel dark wizard of all time, and having soundly defeated him when he was in a weakened state, they might feel uneasy and fear retaliation in the future. But Professor Watson and Professor Dumbledore, Harry believed, were not the type of wizards to be swayed by such concerns.
"Of course not, Harry--" Hermione spoke calmly, her gaze sharp as she looked directly at him. "I think the reason Professor Watson will keep this a secret is not because he's afraid of Voldemort and retaliation, but because of you, Harry. Do you really think the Ministry would be thrilled to hear that tonight's events are connected to You-Know-Who who has disappeared for us and died for them for over a decade? If Professor Watson tells the Ministry about your findings, he'd have to provide evidence proving it was You-Know-Who. What evidence do you think he has?"
Harry immediately opened his mouth, wanting to share what he had seen in his dream. But the words were caught in his throat.
The most reliable evidence wasn't his scar, but the contents of his dream. However, would the Minister of Magic readily believe the visions of a young wizard? To be honest, even Harry himself hadn't been fully convinced at first, and besides...
"I see, Harry--" Hermione's confident tone had disappeared as she explained, replaced by a worried one.
"Are you planning to tell the Ministry about your ability to see You-Know-Who in your dreams? That would mean many people might know about this incredible thing, even You-Know-Who himself. How do you think he would react upon learning of this?"
Harry didn't really care how Voldemort would react - after all, Voldemort wouldn't spare him even if this hadn't happened. But Hermione was right, if his ability to dream about Voldemort became known throughout the wizarding world, Harry could imagine having to endure many strange looks and unwanted attention at Hogwarts once again.
"I thought it was a really cool thing!" Ron blurted out, his voice laced with shock, having finally grasped the full implications of Hermione's reasoning.
"Hermione's right, mate, I think you better keep this quiet. Oh, tomorrow I'm going to say hi to Fred and George, I'll make sure they don't tell Lee Jordan - you know, he's their good friend and can share almost any secret, but he's definitely not the one to help you keep one."
Harry gratefully nodded at Ron, but then became pensive once more.
During his second year at Hogwarts, on the night the Chamber of Secrets troubles were finally resolved, Dumbledore had mentioned that after Harry had thwarted Voldemort's attempt to obtain the Philosopher's Stone in his first year, the Dark Lord had been in hiding in the forests of Albania. But now, Voldemort had returned to Britain and recruited a witch nearly as powerful as Professor Watson as an accomplice, and they were currently plotting to kill him.
Although Professor Watson had made them retreat empty-handed tonight, Harry wasn't naïve enough to think Voldemort would glumly retreat back to the deep forests and not come out again. He could imagine a whole new set of troubles finding him next school year!
Seeing Harry fall silent, Hermione gave Ron a pointed look, and the redhead quickly understood her intention.
"Oh, don't be gloomy, Harry, no matter what, You-Know-Who and that Cliodna woman can't just barge into Hogwarts to get you, they'll only be walking into a trap!"
Ron said excitedly, his eyes alight with a determined spark.
"Think of something positive, Harry, we won a huge amount of money tonight, oh, it feels like a dream!"
It took Harry a moment to realize what Ron was talking about. Indeed, the two of them had correctly predicted the outcome of the Quidditch World Cup final at Ludo Bagman's, winning a full one thousand Galleons!
With the fairly substantial inheritance left to him by his parents, this sudden wealth was more than enough to sustain him comfortably through his time at Hogwarts, so his personal attachment to galleons was far less intense than Ron's. But still, five hundred Galleons was no small sum, and this was certainly an exhilarating and unexpected event.
"I'm going to buy myself a new broom!" Ron exclaimed joyfully as he reached into his pocket, feeling around for his hidden purse.
"Of course, I definitely won't get a Firebolt, but a Nimbus would be perfect. Oh, and I'm going to clear out the shelves at Honeydukes and Zonko's, I've always dreamed of this day coming. What are you waiting for, Harry, get your purse out, it's time to divvy up the money!"
Finally finding his purse, Ron grinned widely as he started to dig it out, his excitement palpable.
"Coming right up!" Harry also immediately began searching himself, eager to claim his share of the winnings.
Watching the two boys suddenly become so elated and preoccupied with the prospect of their newfound wealth, Hermione rolled her eyes with an exasperated expression.
"My purse can't hold that much money, I borrowed it from Charlie!"
Ron proudly displayed a purse embroidered with a moving dragon pattern, then reached his hand inside, preparing to scoop out the mesmerizing, gleaming Galleons. But...
"Oh, are you trying to get me to leave, Weasley?"
Seeing Ron's expression crumble as he maintained his digging posture, Hermione rolled her eyes once more. The next moment, Ron suddenly jumped up from his seat, turning the purse upside down and shaking it frantically, his pale face flushed with eye redness.
"What's going on?" Hermione frowned as she realized something was clearly amiss.
"It's gone, the money is gone!" Ron wailed, his voice laced with despair. "The Galleons Bagman gave me, not a single one left!"
On the other side, Harry also abruptly stood up, his expression one of bewilderment as he held his own purse.
"What's wrong, Harry?" Hermione quickly asked, her concern palpable. "Your money is gone too?"
"It's my wand!" Harry cried out in a panic. "My wand is missing!"
"You lost your wand, Harry?" Hermione's brow furrowed deeply, her amber eyes wide with concern. Her bushy brown hair seemed to bristle with worry as she leaned forward, her voice dropping to an urgent whisper. "What exactly happened? Where did you drop it, in the forest?"
For a wizard, the importance of a wand was as self-evident. In the three years since entering the Wizarding world, Harry had never once let his wand leave his side. It had been his constant companion, a bridge between his old life and his new identity as a wizard.
Suddenly realizing he had lost it, a sickening feeling of weakness and helplessness welled up inside him, momentarily overwhelming his senses. He gritted his teeth, the muscles in his jaw tightening as he carefully scrutinized through the chaotic memories of their hasty escape from the Quidditch pitch, desperately trying to pinpoint the moment when his wand might have slipped from his grasp.
"My Galleons!" Ron's anguished cry cut through Harry's concentration. Ron seemed to be on the verge of a complete breakdown, his freckled face contorting with a mix of panic and fury. He turned his purse – a gift from his older brother Charlie – inside out with trembling hands, but couldn't find so much as a single bronze Knut. His face flushed a deep crimson as he shouted, his voice cracking with emotion.
"Our galleons are gone too, Hermione! A whole thousand Galleons, the entire winnings from Ludo Bagman, vanished into thin air! Who in Merlin's name could have stolen our money?"
In all the time Harry and Hermione had known Ron they had never seen him this angry. Ron's lips quivered uncontrollably as he waved the empty money bag around like a flag of distress, his expression suggesting he was ready to devour the thief who had taken his galleons alive!
Ron's state of near-hysteria didn't particularly surprise Harry and Hermione. Ron had always been very sensitive about his family's tight financial situation. The thousand Galleons won from Ludo Bagman represented more than just money to Ron – it was a life-changing opportunity, a chance to lift himself out of poverty and finally experience the comforts he had always dreamed of. Now that someone had cruelly snatched away his newfound wealth, any level of anger from Ron wouldn't have been unexpected.
Hermione bit her lower lip lightly, looking worriedly at the frantic Ron. Even she didn't know how to calm his fury.
A portion of the missing money belonged to Harry as well. Under normal circumstances, he would have been furious too. However, the gnawing worry over his lost wand left him with no emotional energy to fret about anything else.
Three years ago, on his eleventh birthday, Harry had bought this wand from Ollivander, the best wandmaker in Diagon Alley, under Hagrid's guidance. The memory of that day was etched permanently in his mind. This wand was more than just a magical instrument; it was his proof of formally entering the mysterious and marvelous Wizarding world, a link to his parents and his heritage.
For three years, his wand had been like a brother helping him through many difficult challenges – from facing down a troll in the girls' bathroom to conjuring his first Patronus to drive away the soul-sucking Dementors. Even though this wand had a somewhat unclear and troubling connection to Voldemort, as Mr. Ollivander had hinted, Harry was still deeply attached to it.
Author's Note: I just got back, updates will be regular from today and there is a large chapter in next few chapters.
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